Hell Fire
by HarmonicLark
Summary: Phil wakes up to fire eating away at the apartment. Getting himself and Dan out safely proves harder than expected- especially when Dan refuses to escape. Rated T for slight language and suicidal themes. Phan depending on your POV. Pending Two-Shot
1. Chapter 1

Phil huddled, undisturbed, underneath the multi-colored comforter within the security of his walls. The morning would soon reach through his sheltered windows and wake him, but time stood still for his hours of peace.

He slept soundly, running up to catch on the rest he'd been deprived of during the tour. Late nights and hard work wedged an edge of exasperation between he and Dan, one they concluded would be mended after rehabilitating.

Upon arrival of the flat, Phil had practically fallen into his bed, sinking into sleep instantly without bothering to take his contacts out of his dried eyes.

Dan was the opposite; although he felt the exhaustion rattle his bones, rest eluded him. Meaningful thoughts that traveled through heads of historians and theologians and philosophers alike were plaguing him this night, as they did many others.

The simple solution was implemented with sleeping pills, a new reinstatement that came about from Phil's constant worrying and pestering over Dan's condition. One too many nights, Phil listened warily to Dan's pacing in his room, and one too many nights, Dan become more wary of this existence.

Though the pills stole Dan from a self-destructive conscience, he still felt slight violation as his body was forced into night mode.

That mattered little; with their schedule and demanding life style, Dan sincerely needed to keep himself healthy.

If that meant drugs, so be it.

...

Phil stirred to the warmth of the sun and the bright light blanketing his eye lids.

Except, sunlight usually wasn't reminiscent of the neighbor's barbecue.

Smoke.

Phil's lids flew open to reveal a worried expression in his blue eyes. He forced himself to a sitting position, and tried to discern in the darkness of his room where the smell might be lurking from.

Shifting his fringe out of his view, Phil stood drunkenly, and staggered when the sound of the smoke alarm began shrieking.

Reluctantly, he jogged to the door, hand resting on the warm metal handle, and with fearful resistance, swung it open.

He bit back behind the frame when a wave of heat rushed towards him.

Astounding fire was eating away at the hallways, burning carpet into blackened tar. The heat was immense, and made his vision blurry as the bright light burned into his memory.

They needed to escape, they needed to get out-

"Dan!" Phil coughed out, dropping lower to the floor in order to avoid the heaviest smoke.

The fire whipped in hazardous noise, with no reply from his flat mate.

Phil recalled with seeping nausea the sleeping pills- when taken, Dan could sleep through a hailstorm.

Or, rather, a residence burning down.

The fire attacked maliciously at the frame of the door guarding Dan's bedroom.

Without thought, Phil swept on the opposing side of the door untouched by the fire, kicking desperately at it with his bare heel.

"Dan, wake up, _please_!" Phil yelled at the door as he continued to pound at the locked room. He leapt backwards once more when the flames engulfed Dan's door.

For a moment, Phil stood, dumbstruck. The smoke was clinging to the inside of his lungs, and was threatening to make him keel over; tears from the heat were running down his face. His head swam, but a single thought was clear: he couldn't save Dan.

He let himself slip downward onto the floor, reluctant to leave, to take his chances in the fire, especially without Dan. No where in his mind was he prepared to do so.

Fire was towering Phil as it slipped up the door, burning into the wood.

The door was decomposing under the burden of fire, and Phil recognized this opportunity.

As the wood turned into figments of ash, Phil drew an empty suitcase from the unharmed closet, and surged it at the door.

The wood bent and cracked the large majority of the door, stripping the top two thirds, allowing Phil to see into the room.

This also indicated that the fire was granted easier entry to Dan's room, and it flew forward unabashed.

"Get up Dan, there's a fire!" Phil screamed with all the oxygen he could muster.

Dan seemed to hear his call, and shifted in his bed. Phil witnessed him turn groggily towards the frame, then with wide eyes peer at the hungry flames separating him from Phil.

"If you hurry, you can jump over the door and flames, Dan, c'mon!" Phil called, gesturing with desperate movements as he crouched underneath the poisonous smoke.

Dan stood from his bed, but then ceased in movement. His dark clothed figure was drowned out by the fire, and Phil could hardly see the light of his face.

"What are you waiting for, jump!"

Shaking his head, Dan remained standing, breathing in the smoke dizzily. When Phil thought back on this moment, he fought the urge to cringe at the fearful lack of emotion that splayed Dan's face, the hungry way his eyes burned like the fire.

" _Jump, dammit_!"

Phil covered his nose and mouth with his sleeve, breathing in through the filter as the smoke became increasingly intense.

His heart dropped when Dan locked eyes with him, cold and dark, calculating the outcomes of this situation. He found no motivation to save himself.

A sudden look of guilt reflected on Dan's features as he stared, unseeing into the face of his terrified friend.

The smoke clouded his brain.

He was falling, slipping into oblivion.

But that's what he had wanted.

This way, he didn't have to take his own life.

He needed only to succumb to the flames.

..

Phil watched in horror as Dan crumpled to the floor, greeting the hell fire as an old friend.

" _No_!"

XxX


	2. Chapter 2

Gruffly gloved hands gently lifted the back of Phil's neck and secured a smoke mask over the labored breathing of his mouth.

He was being raised into strong and steady arms, those of a practiced man in urgency.

Awareness stuttered between confusion and clarity in the darkness behind his eye lids, but the prominent fear in his heart couldn't be forgotten.

"You have to save him..." he muttered child-like into the mask, humidity collecting with every breath.

"My partner has your friend, son," the fireman replied as he rushed out of the flaming flat, jolting Phil's limp form with each step. "Just focus on your breathing."

Now that Phil thought about it, breathing had become overbearingly annoying. It was far too quick, far too strained.

After minutes of flying through endless cases of stairs, Phil felt the man's feet shift to solid ground.

He opened his eyes to witness the dim daylight of the morning sky, and felt a sudden peace in his being.

The fireman lowered him onto a gurney, and immediately his view was obscured by a number of paramedics that leered above him, poking and prodding as they observed his condition.

A medical breathing mask was strapped over him, and within a moment clarity was being restored at a steady pace.

"I need to see him," Phil stated sluggishly to a paramedic as she checked his pulse with small fingers.

"After we've stabilized your heart beat, we'll allow it, but you don't need to get overly excited. Your lungs have been forced through a lot of trauma, but there's no other visible injuries, burns, nothing." The paramedic woman ended her sentence with a vague air of surprise for Phil's miraculous condition.

"And Dan; how is he?" Phil inquired, the movement of his tongue adjusting slowly to normal speed.

The paramedic stared at him blankly for a moment, as if grappling with what to say. She lowered her gaze remorsefully.

...

Phil cradled Dan's head against his chest.

Phil was tethered to reality by the wiring linked to him, feeding oxygen that he wept through.

Softly, he revolved Dan's face to the right, and exhaled sharply at the sight of the agitated redness of burns that marred his pale skin.

Dan, too, was gasping for oxygen through a machine, fate reluctant to grant his wish of fabled eternal rest.

Off-white bandages wrapped around Dan's lengthy arms, refusing to expose the aggression fire had imprinted upon him.

Phil encased his arms around him, being the support and comfort for his limp friend. Acting as the calvary arriving late to the battlefield.

Half the time, Dan was a spark-filled enthusiast who laughed in the face of his inner demons. He'd managed to conquer them years ago when his idol, a bright eyed young man with atrocious fringe, became the centerpiece of his drably-decorated existence.

But here he lay, the evidence of his self-destruction apparent inside and out.

Phil leaned his teary face atop Dan's, forehead resting on chestnut hair.

Warmth spread vigorously throughout his limbs, a warmth that Phil longed to share with this brittle and cold man. Every part of his being screamed that this was right, this was permanent, to hold Dan in his affectionate arms, grip so firm that Dan would never escape him in sentience.

His conscience began establishing barricades to block the gunfire of guilt, which dug deep into his skin. The risk of sharp removal was too great; Phil would rather bleed out the poison than live in a world where careless acts led to the death of others.

It was his own negligence that was the causation of Dan's struggles. Had he instead conversed with Dan about the thoughts that kept him up all night, rather than push him to the extent of purchasing pills, all would be reversed.

Dan's breathing would be steady and strong, his skin ridded of hidden scars revealed, his heart less heavy.

But he wouldn't be in Phil's gentle, gangly arms, and Phil wouldn't be experiencing this warmth.

They'd be at a distance, living their lives for the benefit of others, stripped of the opportunity to find each other underneath the mess of scrambled mistakes and forgotten chances. But that was no more.

When Dan woke up, Phil would be at his side, the salt water tears blinking off lashes to cleanse scars that ran deeper than skin.

For now, Phil cried for himself, hugging tightly to Dan, mouths separated by shallow oxygen, drowning in the air that kept them apart.


End file.
